


sick of screaming, let me in

by pvrcq



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Artist Kieran White, Author needs sleep, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Gratuitous use of italics, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Its just sadness, Light Angst, The Author Regrets Everything, baby deserves better, barely any dialogue again bc i hate writing it, kieran is sad, like??how do people talk??, more kiki abuse, ngl kinda broke myself w the last line, no beta we die like men, nvm, readers tears welcome here, sigh, sigh baby is lonely, sorry babes theres no simp kieran here, very sad, will i ever write fluff? who knows? not me, wow im terrible at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pvrcq/pseuds/pvrcq
Summary: All the lies human’s had to tell so it would hurt a little less. Not for others, but so that they could feel better about themselves.He could see right through it, but it didn’t matter, not really. Just another home, just other people.Gone.It was fine.Kieran would be fine.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	sick of screaming, let me in

**Author's Note:**

> OK so i know how everyone hc's Kieran (and possibly other kids such as bella) being kidnapped/human trafficking while they were smol kids (I DO TOO!!) but i wanted to explore a (kinda?) different backstory for kiki and we got this um- 
> 
> n e ways i hope u enjoy this mwah

_“Repression breeds rebellion.”_ Kieran had always lived by that.

As an orphan, looking at all the kids in the poorer districts had always created an inexplicable feeling of rage in him. How dare they?

Arrogant, privileged nobles, parading in fine manors wearing silks made by the very children working in factories day and night barely wearing rags to cover themselves, that they insulted and ignored on the streets everyday.

Royals sitting in their castle and looking pretty, not giving a damn about what happened to anyone unless it was aristocrats guaranteeing their position in society. _It made his blood boil._

* * *

  
  
  


Kieran was 12 the first time he heard about the Phantom Scythe. Rather than inciting fear, the horror stories rather made him curious. 

_Had he been so fucked up even then?_

Of course, he was smart enough not to have said anything about it, that would have probably got him kicked out sooner than they eventually did. 

Not that he wasn’t thankful for the orphanage, it had provided a home for him most of his childhood, but the repeated beatings and verbal abuse daily had left something to be desired. Although, after the first few years, he hadn’t minded it. Not really.

When pain is a part of your everyday life, _you tend to numb yourself to it._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Kieran had been 14 when he finally left the orphanage. 

**_“We don’t have space.”_ **

**_“We’re so sorry to see you go.”_ **

All the lies human’s had to tell so it would hurt a little less. Not for others, but so that they could feel better about themselves.

He could see right through it, but it didn’t _matter_ , not really. Just another home, just other people. 

Gone.

**_It was fine._ **

**_Kieran would be fine._ **

****

**_He always was._ **

****

_He had to be._

* * *

  
  
  


Kieran was 14, lonely, and cold, shivering on the streets. That was when _she_ came. He didn’t remember her face, not really. 

He did remember a smile. _Her_ smile. 

It was little to what he had done years later, but the Kieran from then didn’t know what kind of _monster_ he’d become. At least, he hoped not. That smile still plagued him every night, for reasons yet unknown to him.

The _only_ thing that terrified him more than himself.

The night was a blur of punches and yells and kicks and screams. They probably didn’t expect him to put up a fight, after all, he was just a tiny kid, thrown to the darkness that was the city, no one he could talk to, no one for help. 

But he wasn’t just another kid.

He was Kieran White, and he did NOT give up without a fight. And fight he did.

There was red, fiery as flame, dark crimson, the kind he would use to paint over the walls (the only thing they found him useful for, to decorate the godforsaken orphan house, make it all pretty for the officials who did yearly checks without knowing what the kids suffered at all).

_Blood._

_He saw light flashes. He saw shadows of the demons in his mind._

_And then there was black._

* * *

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what was happening.

**_He was not scared._ **

_He refused to be._

_People like him didn’t have the_ _luxury_ _to be scared._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Join the Phantom Scythe?

_What was the worst that could happen?_

* * *

  
  


They were against the crown, weren’t they? And what had the crown ever done for him? 

He won’t be like either of them.

_He would never be like either of them._

Not like the ignorant royals who cared for nothing and no one else, stuck in political affairs among their _darling_ little heads.

And even if he agreed with the Scythe’s goals of overthrowing the monarchy, he would _never_ be like them, killing and using any means to reach their ends. 

* * *

  
  


_“—I never wanted to lose this humanity.”_

  
  


Oh, sweetheart.

He had been such a kid back then.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAA IF YOU READ MY DUMB 3AM IDEA THANKU SM I REALLY APPRECIATE IT, feel free to give me critique too, also if the timelines dont match LEAVE ME ALONE I WAS LAZY
> 
> n e ways ily i hope you have a great day or night wherever you are mwah <33
> 
> (the title is inspired from 'Wires' by the neighbourhood!!)


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